Even in Death
by crimsonmornings
Summary: Two and a half years have passed since Elissa Cousland made the final sacrifice.  King Alistair still feels the loss of his love/companion.  When her memory is threatened, he must fight anew against the darkness.
1. Prologue

Two and a half years had passed since Elissa had made the ultimate sacrifice, giving her life for all of Ferelden. The Grey Wardens in Amaranthine had defeated the talking darkspawn, destroying the Architect and his creation. The darkspawn had finally begun to slide back into the shadows now that the Archdemon had died. King Alistair had become a well-loved and fair king but he still mourned over the loss of his companion and lover. Despite Chancellor Eamon's attempts to marry him to many noble bachelorettes he only very reluctantly met with them, accepting none. He knew soon he would have to choose the next queen for the peoples' sake, even if he did not want to do so himself. The throne needed an heir.

The men and women who had accompanied Elissa and Alistair on their journey had all left the capital, some disappearing, others simply moving on, yet Alistair could not move on. Regret and remembrance lingered in the recesses of his mind. Despite his attempt to defeat the Archdemon himself, she had gotten to it faster. All he had done was watch as her body fell limply to the ground. He had lost the only person he had ever truly loved, and even when he tried to find the women Eamon brought before him attractive, all he could do was think of her. He dared not mention the name. It still stung too much even after so long and hours of Templar discipline training. He could not get her face out of his mind.

"Your Majesty, I am afraid Chancellor Eamon has asked me to bring another suitable fiancé before you. I know how much you dislike this, but the Chancellor insists on it." Alistair sighed, bringing his hand to his forehead. It all gave him such a headache. He glanced down at the man before him, his captain of the guard. He was a fine young man with strong loyalties to the Theirin bloodline. His father had served under Alistair's father before Cailan took the throne, and since then Ser Gregory had trained in Redcliffe. Alistair had actually met him when they were both young boys; little did he know that the squire would one day follow Alistair's command.

"If only some of them actually enjoyed humor without that fakeness."

"Your Majesty?"

Alistair shrugged. "They either spend their entire time laughing or they glare at me whenever I make even the smallest of jokes. It really convinces me that they don't want to marry me just for the title." His sarcasm was dry and disgruntled.

Ser Gregory chuckled. "Indeed. They do seem rather power hungry."

"Are there any noblewomen who aren't?" Alistair flinched. He knew of only one, and she had already died. "They all remind me of Anora." He hoped bringing up that name would elicit enough anger that he would distract himself from the other name sitting on the tip of his tongue. Luckily it worked, and he felt his face heat up slightly. She had dared accumulate forces to put her back on the throne even while she stayed locked away in her cell. Eventually he had resorted to executing her, given little choice to avoid another civil war.

"Hm, you might not want to think about her right before you have to play nice with the other children, your Majesty."

Alistair snickered. "Oh politics! How much easier they were when the darkspawn threatened to knock down our walls."

"As I recall, it was not much easier then, your Majesty." Eamon walked into the room, an expression of amusement and slight irritation on his face. These sorts of entrances usually meant that Alistair was neglecting something again. This time Alistair knew precisely what it was: the damsel in distress in the waiting room.

He straightened up, shaking his head. "Yes, yes, bring her in." Eamon smiled. "Don't worry; I won't dismiss her right away like the last one. But honestly, you brought me someone who doesn't like cheese. How could I ever marry such a woman?"

Ser Gregory smirked, but regained his composure to collect the young woman and lead her in. This eligible noblewoman was the niece of Bann Franderel, ruler of West Hill. She seemed attractive enough, but Ser Gregory knew that Alistair had very high standards. Elissa Cousland was known throughout Ferelden for her beauty. Perhaps some of the stories were embellished, but from what Ser Gregory had heard they did not land too far from the mark.

The woman followed Ser Gregory into the throne room. She peered this way and that at the luxurious tapestries and suits of armor that hung on the tall stone walls. Alistair always chose to meet with the women here, and Ser Gregory had a suspicion it was part of their test. He only liked strong, collected women, and so far Lady Donna looked far from it.

They reached the throne where Alistair sat with Eamon standing to his right. "Your Majesty," Lady Donna said, bowing low. Pink fled to her cheeks when she glanced up at the king. "Um, it is a pleasure to meet you. My uncle sends his regards." Eamon whispered something in Alistair's ear.

"That is very kind of him." Alistair's eyes went sharp as they often did when he attended to matters of state. He could truly be very serious when necessary. "Now, Lady Donna, I have a few questions for you."

"Um yes…of course," the girl answered meekly. She hid her face behind her long locks of hair.

Alistair shook his head then laughed, withdrawing from his tense position. She was evidently not a girl of strong spirit. "Don't look so nervous, really, I'm not going to throw you into Fort Drakon or anything. Trust me; you don't want to go in there; not very pleasant."

"Yes, your Majesty," she answered quietly, not taking the humor to heart. Alistair shrugged his shoulders, a sure sign that he was done. Ser Gregory led the girl out, who looked like she might break into nervous tears any second.

"See? None of them like me Eamon. All they see is a big scary king or a way to become more powerful."

Eamon sighed. "I thought you said you wouldn't dismiss her right away, your Majesty. Now we'll have to apologize to her family." Alistair gave him a pleading look. "Fine, I will see to it then. Just please find someone soon. The country needs an heir." Eamon left to go talk to the girl and see if she was indeed alright.

Alistair got up and walked out into hall towards his quarters. Of all the problems of state he had to worry about, marriage seemed the most daunting. The problem revolved around his yearning to find someone he might actually want to have a family with. He knew deep down that even a marriage of convenience suited his position but he wanted to marry for love. He wanted to marry the woman he still loved.

He shed the silks of royalty and collapsed onto his bed, hoping the memories would stay away. Instead they filled up the crease in his forehead, spreading a dull pain throughout his head. Pain, regret, longing; how many emotions did he still have locked behind the face of a collected ruler? How many tears had he left unshed, fearing they would show a weak king?

Yet she had died gloriously. She had given her life to save them all; to save him. Deep down he knew she had done what he would have if their roles had been reversed. She had given Ferelden a king and saved it from its doom. She deserved the songs and stories told about her, yet the more he heard them the harder it was to forget. He knew, also, that he feared those stories would stop circulating because then she would become just another name in history. He wanted to remember her as a person, strong and stubborn to a fault, so he instead chose to drown himself in the memories.

He fell asleep dreaming of a face he would never touch again.


	2. Upsetting the Stone

Alistair awoke to a loud knock on his door. He bolted out of bed, clasping his hands around the hilt of Duncan's blade, which he still kept at his side alongside his father's. "Who is it?"

"Your Majesty, a man from the Grey Wardens is here. Something has happened at Weisshaupt," explained Ser Gregory's voice through the door.

"With the Grey Wardens? Send him in immediately." Alistair dressed quickly, throwing water on his face. He still had trouble sleeping sometimes, even now that the darkspawn had begun to recede back into the Deep Roads. The taint would never truly leave him, and he would always be part of the order even if only in blood.

The door opened as Ser Gregory came in, followed closely by Eamon and an unfamiliar man Alistair recognized carried the taint. Alistair nodded to the man, who bowed shallowly to the king. The Grey Wardens did not recognize the throne as any power over them and generally found politics a hindrance because it usually meant they had to fight over the right to conscription or troops. Alistair still found it amusing he, who had cursed the difficulties of politics quite a few times during his time as a Warden, now elicited that sentiment.

"Your Majesty, my name is Lawrence. As much as I would enjoy spending this time on pleasantries and old war stories, I am afraid I have some unfortunate and urgent news for you. Elissa Cousland's tomb has been robbed."

Alistair took a step back in surprise. As if darkspawn and unhappy noblemen were not enough, now grave robbers had become a problem? He pinched the bridge of his nose. "When did this happen? Do you have any leads?"

The man shook his head sadly. Her tomb was almost as much a loss to the Wardens as it was to Alistair. Alistair collapsed down in an armchair situated near the fireplace as the Warden began his explanation. "I am afraid not, your Majesty. The Warden Commander sent me and my men right away, but a week has passed since we left Anderfels. He said a search party would be sent out immediately."

"I see. I hate to ask you to return after just traveling so far but would you travel back with me starting tomorrow?"

"But your Majesty," Eamon began but stopped once he saw Alistair's face. Nothing could dissuade him from going. Eamon sighed, well aware of Alistair's determination, and conceded. "I understand; I shall take care of the capitol while you are away."

"Thank you Eamon. I will not forget this. I'll even let you parade noblewomen around for me to meet." Alistair cracked a smile but it did not reach his eyes. "Ser Gregory, you will see to the arrangements I assume?" Ser Gregory nodded, excusing himself.

Alistair gestured for the Warden to sit next to him in another chair. The fireplace glowed slightly but otherwise the room remained dark. Having just woken up, Alistair had neglected to turn on the lamps, but given the news he had just received it seemed unimportant now. Darkness seemed more fitting for such a conversation. "Eamon, I'm afraid I will have to ask you to leave as well. You know the rules, secrets and all. Also, may I ask you to tell Derek to get some refreshments for my guest and myself?" Derek was Alistair's personal assistant.

Eamon seemed reluctant but then nodded, closing the door behind him. Alistair cleared his throat, leaning back in the chair. Trouble found Elissa, even in death. He was pleasantly reminded of the past, but then the dark present and apparent future invaded his memories. In fact, it all seemed dark, both the past and the present.

"I'm afraid I cannot tell you much for we know very little. We don't usually patrol the crypt because, well, it's underground. We did not expect someone to dig their way into her coffin. We were even more surprised whoever it was knew exactly which one they were digging into. All the other tombs remain untouched. The culprit took her remains as well as a few of her personal items, but left all the things of real value, her sword and dagger included."

"Then we can't be dealing with a normal grave robber. Who would want to steal bones?" Alistair cringed slightly at his choice of words, however true they might have been. Nothing except bones could be left of her now.

Lawrence looked thoughtful. "No indeed, your Majesty. It did seem strange to us as well. The mages said some sort of magic had been used to get her out, so we fear the worst."

"You fear an apostate." Of all the things he did not want to deal with apostates were right up there. His Templar prejudices had not completely left him, and the last apostate he had dealt with was Morrigan. If she were any indication of what was to come he did not want anything to do with it. Still, Elissa's memory was at stake. He could not allow anyone, rogue mage or not, to defile her tomb.

Lawrence nodded. Alistair sighed in response, his headache returning twofold. There came another knock on the door, and Derek came in, his head bowed. He was slightly older than Alistair but not by much. Eamon had hoped an older assistant would make up for Alistair's intermittent childishness, which it had for the most part. Derek had acted as a rock for Alistair to cling to as he rushed head on into the task of ruling a kingdom. Much like Eamon, Derek had studied the complex backbone of Ferelden politics that Alistair had neglected to learn given his rather illicit birth. Changing from an armored Warden to a collected royal had been unsurprisingly difficult, but having a helpful assistant by his side had eased the transition a bit.

Derek placed the spread of assorted cheeses, pastries, and breads between the two Wardens. "Thank you, Derek," Alistair said, spreading some cheese on a cracker. "Make sure you are ready to head out tomorrow."

"Yes your Majesty," Derek said, bowing out of the room and closing the door behind him.

Lawrence eyed the food hungrily. Alistair nodded to him, and Lawrence began nibbling on a piece of cheese, his profound hunger only barely hidden behind proper etiquette. "There's no need to hold back. I know that hunger just as well as you do."

Lawrence almost smiled. "I suppose you do. Sometimes I forget you're a Warden as well."

"I certainly don't," Alistair muttered darkly. "So, an apostate is probably at work here. It does seem likely that blood magic is involved if they just took her…" he paused, "remains."

"We have sometimes used blood magic in the past ourselves. It is not outlawed in Anderfels as it is here, mostly because we find it useful at times. Yet this magic apparently felt more, well, evil I suppose is the word."

Alistair suppressed the urge to speak out against the use of blood magic. He knew that his Templar prejudices needed to be stopped somewhere. The darkspawn were a large enough threat that sometimes certain liberties had to be taken. Still, it did not settle well in his stomach. The whole situation seemed incredibly unpleasant. "I see," he said at last.

"So tomorrow morning we leave then. Might I ask that food be sent to my men? We will need the entire rest of the day to recover."

"Consider it done. You need rest as well Lawrence. We can discuss this more completely on the long trip ahead of us."

Lawrence bowed, taking a large portion of cheese and bread with him as he left the room. Alistair massaged his temples and squeezed his fist hard. Sleep would not come back to him now. Instead, he got out of the chair and headed off to practice his swordsmanship. He would surely need it in the days to come.


	3. The Long Road

"I think you've outdone yourself, your Majesty," Derek said as he peered over the king, who now lay on the ground drenched in sweat. "It would be a shame if you couldn't make the trip because of exhaustion."

Alistair looked at him crossly. "Don't be foolish. A little physical exertion never hurt anybody." Derek gave him an amused look. "Alright, maybe I'm not as fit as I used to be."

"Or young, it seems."

"Now you're just being mean." Alistair pulled himself into a sitting position. "Besides, you're older than I am so don't think for one moment you can mock my age."

Derek laughed. "Six years is hardly a lifetime, and I feel very sprightly for my age."

"That makes one of us then," Alistair muttered. Derek offered him a hand, but Alistair simply glared. "I can still get up myself, thank you very much." He stood up, trying to make it look effortless.

"That's good. We can't have a king who can't stand on his own two feet now can we? I speak for the people of Ferelden, naturally."

Alistair rolled his eyes, sarcasm heavy in his tone. "Naturally. But your misgivings about my leadership are hardly important right now. How do the preparations for our departure fare?"

Derek stood up straighter, clearing his throat. "Ser Gregory and a detachment of ten other men will go with you to Weisshaupt. I'll be going too, as well as few other maids."

"Well that's a relief. How else will I remember to wear clean socks each day?"

Derek smirked but continued nonetheless. "Other than cheese, what other supplies would you like to put on the carriage? I figured you would carry your sword and shield yourself, but is there anything else?"

Alistair seemed to lose himself in thought for a moment. His eyes focused again and he forced a laugh. "No, just make sure there's a lot of cheese."

Derek opened his mouth to speak but thought better of it. The king had his secrets, as he should. "I'm sure you would have me executed if I didn't. I'll make sure you have a nice warm bath when you get back to your rooms, too. At least that will limit the smell." Alistair grumbled at him.

Derek excused himself, leaving Alistair to mull over thoughts of better times, or at least times when his heart did not tug impatiently at his chest. He had to send a letter to Teryn Cousland before he could leave, and he dreaded informing Fergus his beloved sister's grave was no more. It seemed as though every interaction he had with the man revolved around bad news. First his sister's death, and now this. Alistair shook his head, hoping he would wake up in bed with her smiling down at him. The reality of the situation was so much worse.

He headed to his quarters and the bath Derek had promised. He got in and proceeded to scrub away the lingering sweat. He rubbed until his skin turned red, hoping the sponge would wipe away the amalgam of feelings he had as well as the perspiration. He thought of the long trip ahead of him and could not help but let out a long, tired breath. She was no longer a person, merely a pile of bones that some Maker-forsaken apostate had dared to steal. The fact she could be stolen when in life she would have fiercely fought the thief off only added to the truth. She was dead and he was still alive.

Alistair slouched down into the tub, letting the warm water wash over him. Baths were one of the simple luxuries he had come to take for granted now that he was king. Yet he would give it all away if it would save him from his thoughts.

He rose and dried off, putting on a more practical if less kingly tunic. He walked over to his desk and began to write the dreaded letter to Fergus. The unfortunate tasks of a leader never ceased to leave him exhausted and bitter.

A knock came on the door, and Ser Gregory asked permission to enter. He came into the room carrying a suit if heavy armor with him. Alistair smiled to himself as he thought of how he had teased Elissa long ago about the Templar uniforms. Compared to this elegant suit of armor, however, they seemed insignificant. He really was a sucker for good tailoring.

"I'm assuming that's for me." He pointed to the armor as Ser Gregory laid it down on the chair next to Alistair's desk. "You don't usually wear shiny golden armor, at least not in public anyway."

Ser Gregory cracked a smile. "Indeed, your Majesty. One of the pages was incredibly excited when I asked him to shine it for you."

"If only I could get excited about shining armor. But I guess there's no point in being king if you don't have people to help shine your armor for you." Alistair got up and went over to the rather enormous plate mail. He pulled it over his head and adjusted the straps to fit snugly around his biceps. "Seems to fit anyway."

Ser Gregory nodded. "The blacksmith checked all the measurements to make sure they would fit you."

"And how did you get a hold of my measurements I wonder." Ser Gregory simply smirked, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Always the tricky one. Fine, fine, so I can't even keep secrets in my own residence." Alistair sobered somewhat. "How are the other preparations?"

"We're all set to go once the sun rises. The Wardens seem well rested, considering. They should be quite the asset should anything unpredictable happen but I fear the men may find them a bit intimidating."

"I have no doubt your men will prove just as useful, Ser Gregory. One more thing before you go. Please have a messenger bring this letter to Highever. Teryn Cousland deserves to know what happened to his sister." Alistair handed the letter to Ser Gregory. "Also, if you happen to see Derek, would you mind asking him to bring me some food when he gets the chance? I believe I will eat dinner in here tonight."

"Of course, your Majesty." He looked down at the letter gravely. "I shall see you in the morning." With that Ser Gregory left the room, the door shutting quietly behind him.

Alistair took off the armor and settled back into his chair, staring at the walls. A short while later Derek came in with some dinner. Alistair ate in silence, hoping his dreams would be calm and quiet.

Alistair got out of bed after a night of restless sleeping to accompany his soldiers and the Grey Wardens. The Fade had not been kind to him, but he prepared himself despite the sleepiness.

He gathered together his belongings in a sack, very much reminded of his travels with Elissa and their companions. In a way he was happy to travel again even if he left under unfortunate circumstances. He strapped on his armor and tied Maric's blade to his belt. He thought for a moment whether to bring Duncan's as well but compromised by carrying Duncan's shield and his father's sword.

Stuffing some of the breakfast Derek had left out for him in his mouth, he walked over to the Throne Room where his men and the Grey Wardens had assembled. They all looked a little tired but determination and devotion flickered through their eyes as they looked upon their king. He stood up in front of them, addressing the group.

"Elissa Cousland was a hero. She willingly sacrificed herself to protect us all and did so without fear or regret. She may live on in our songs and poetry, but that does not mean we can overlook the destruction of her tomb as a fact of life. No, we must get to the bottom of this mystery, if not for her then for Ferelden. She does, as she always has, deserve better. For this I ask you to stand with me. I ask you to follow me to Anderfels, so that we all can do one last favor for the Hero of Ferelden." He stopped, the room erupting into applause, quietly adding to himself, "It is the only thing I can do."

He took in a breath, pushing back the feelings, and nodded. "And so we begin the long journey ahead."


	4. An Old Acquaintance

Alistair and the other men traveled for several days on horseback, trudging through the wilderness. Despite the intermittent batch of highwaymen, all of whom failed miserably when attempting, rather unwisely, to steal from the king, the roads remained quiet. Most of the darkspawn had left for the Deep Roads, although a few stragglers tried to attack the group of travelers. However with so many trained Grey Wardens they stood no chance of survival either.

People gathered around the men as they road through small villages and towns throughout Ferelden. The people genuinely liked their king, whether that came from their actual appreciation for him or for his father and brother Alistair had no way of knowing, but still he enjoyed greeting them. They gave him gifts of food and cloths, and he in turn thanked them graciously.

Sometimes the men stopped in various towns to visit the tavern or restock some of their supplies. In such cases the peasants gathered around the king as he told them stories while Derek limited the number of ales Alistair could drink to ensure he did not make a fool of himself. Otherwise they traveled as fast as they could given the large group.

Eventually Alistair's entourage reached Orlais, the country of elegance and luxury. Although he had seriously considered visiting Orlais at some point, mostly because Leliana insisted it would take his mind away from Elissa's death, Alistair had never visited the country. Its reputation for trickery and assassinations, although not quite as bad as Antiva, had made him reconsider the trip, much to Chancellor Eamon's relief.

"Be on the look out for bards," Lawrence said, matching his pace with Alistair. "They can be quite troublesome."

"And infuriating attractive," Ser Gregory muttered, obviously not aware he had said it out loud. He clasped a hand to his mouth, looking innocently over at Alistair and Lawrence.

Alistair raised an eyebrow. "Who might you be referring to, Ser Gregory?"

"No one, your Majesty." He tried to hide his blush. Derek, who was sitting in the carriage with the various supplies, chuckled. Ser Gregory shot him an angry look.

"I believe you know the woman quite well, your Majesty. A redhead who happens to be skilled with song. Sang some songs in the palace, in fact."

Alistair looked confused for a moment. "You don't mean, surely not Leliana? You and Leliana?" Derek chuckled once more at the king's utter disbelief.

"Uh, no, not exactly," Ser Gregory replied quietly. He gripped the reins of his horse awkwardly, blushing rather deeply.

"He got incredibly drunk and spilled his heart to her, but the next day he couldn't face her," Derek explained, turning to Ser Gregory, "I often find myself wondering what you might have said to her, ser. Freda shot her jealous looks for the rest of her time in Denerim." He rather badly hid his amusement behind an attempt at a straight face.

"Freda? You mean the cook's assistant?" Alistair asked. He tried to imagine her in his head. Ser Gregory merely turned a darker red.

Suddenly one of the Grey Wardens, who had gone on ahead to scout, road over to the group. He stopped the horse abruptly in front of Lawrence, appearing incredibly shaken.

The man attempted to catch his breath for a moment. He searched for the appropriate words, looking perplexed. "Ser, up ahead there's...a talking spider."

Lawrence looked at him confusedly. "A talking what?"

"Spider, Commander. I know it sounds crazy, but that's what I saw. It said, 'Bring me your king.' I think it may be possessed by a desire demon."

Lawrence glanced over at Alistair, who looked just as confused. What would a desire demon want with him, especially one living in Orlais? Perhaps it was a trap constructed by one of the bards or assassins living here, but then again none of them had known he would come through Orlais, unless someone among the group was a spy. He looked around, but then stopped himself. He had to trust his men.

He weighed his options for a moment then pulled out his sword. "Very well, let's go see this talking spider."

The soldiers formed a protective ring around the king as they followed the scout over to the oversized spider. It sat in the middle of the road flexing one of its gigantic spiny legs. As they approached its eyes focused on Alistair, and he swore it almost laughed. It crawled towards the group, the soldiers moving to make sure it could not reach their king.

"What a wall of protection you have, Alistair. Too bad it does not look as though being king has done much for your intelligence. Walking into something that could so easily be a trap, how very wise of you," it said, its voice loud and harsh. Alistair stared at it dumbfounded. "I see you do not remember me either. 'Tis to be expected, I suppose."

The spider began to shrink down, its body morphing into a human shape. Morrigan stood before them wearing what appeared to be a court outfit, although its ostentatious design did not fit her personality at all. She looked very amused at the shocked glances from the men surrounding Alistair. Alistair, however, boiled over with anger.

"So now you return, after letting us face the Archdemon alone and leaving her to die," he said, clenching his fist.

Morrigan stared at him for a moment, sadness almost leaking out of her tough facade. She regained her composure soon, however. "You seem to have done an excellent job protecting her yourself."

Alistair glared at her. "She wouldn't let me do it," he said under his breath, too quietly for his knights or the Wardens to pick up. Morrigan looked slightly surprised but let it pass.

"Alas I did not come here merely to comment on your idiotic ways, Alistair-"

Ser Gregory interrupted her, finally regaining his composure after the shock of seeing her shapeshift. "You shall not call the king an idiot, and you shall call him by his appropriate title," he said angrily.

"Oh I shall, shall I?" Her eyes flashed dangerously.

Ser Gregory readied himself for battle, grinding his teeth together in pure rage. Alistair held up his hand, shaking his head. "Stand down, Ser Gregory. You do not want to fight her." Ser Gregory looked as if he might protest, but the look in Alistair's eyes stopped him. They spoke volumes for her powers, as did her ability to shapeshift. He bowed his head submissively and obeyed.

"Perhaps I misjudged. Maybe being king has made you more intelligent after all."

"So glad to have your approval," Alistair muttered darkly.

Morrigan looked him in the eye. "I know who took her, and your knights and Wardens will not be enough to get her back. I have come to help you."

"Have you? This time not for self gain I hope, but then again at least that would allow me to hate you more. If that is even possible."

"Believe what you want to believe, but I did care about her in my own way."

Alistair laughed mockingly. "Yes in the 'I'm going to abandon you to your death because you won't do what I want' way. You're really a true friend."

"Enough. Either accept my help or do not, but let us not dally like fools."

Alistair stayed quiet for a moment. As much as he hated Morrigan, he believed it unlikely she would lie about needing her help. Still she had proved unworthy of Elissa's trust. In truth he hardly knew what had happened between the two of them. All Elissa had told him when he asked was that Morrigan had asked Elissa to perform a dark ritual that would create an abomination, and Elissa had refused. What the ritual was he still did not know, but it seemed Elissa did not want to talk more on the subject at the time. Furthermore, they had still to fight the Archdemon, which left little time to discuss such issues.

Morrigan had been fickle, leaving them simply because Elissa refused her, but Alistair had seen enough of them together to know that Morrigan genuinely cared about Elissa as much as she cared about anyone anyway. He was suddenly reminded of the gossip he had shared with Elissa during their trip. He had asked about Morrigan and Elissa had replied, "I do like her, but it's mostly irrelevant. Her magic is useful. We honestly couldn't have gotten this far without her."

She was useful, necessary even. Alistair could not argue against that. He sighed, blinking slowly. "I don't think I have any option but to accept your proposition. I must destroy the animal who defiled her grave."

Lawrence spoke up. "Your Majesty, are you sure? She's an apostate just like the creature we suspect has taken Elissa Cousland's bones. You don't think it's possible they are in league together?"

Morrigan rolled her eyes. "We do not all belong to a cult with the sole purpose of overthrowing your world with blood magic, Grey Warden."

"She may have ulterior motives, I won't argue against that, but I do think she could be useful against another mage," Alistair replied. Lawrence searched his face but found no indication that Alistair did not believe those words.

"Fine. I will concede. But do not think I won't have my eye on you, apostate."

"You did such a wonderful job of that while I followed you and your men for miles, unnoticed," Morrigan answered sarcastically.

"You were following us?" Ser Gregory asked. His dislike of her was written all over his face.

"Do not find it so surprising. I can remain unseen if I wish." Ser Gregory shivered slightly, his body tense with rage.

"Stand down, all of you," Alistair commanded. "We shall make camp here for the night, and Morrigan and I will discuss what knowledge she has. Start putting up camp."

The men stood still for a moment and then proceeded to make arrangements for putting together the camp. Morrigan followed Alistair over to a small outcropping nearby where they sat down on two adjacent rocks. Although the last person he really wanted to have a conversation with, Morrigan was the only person who might give him more information than they already had.

He rubbed his forehead. "So what do you know?" His stare was icy but he tried to keep his voice civil.

"Not as much as I wish to. What I do know comes mostly from the Fade."

"You mean dreams?"

"Yes. The bloodmage is trying to tear a hole in what you call the Veil. For what purpose I cannot say, but somehow he intends to use Elissa's bones for such a task."

Alistair looked thoughtful. "Why her bones though?"

"Did I not just say I do not know?"

Alistair glared at her, old anger rising and then falling again as he remembered the situation. If Morrigan was really having dreams as she said, then surely she was somehow connected to this event. Although not sure the nature of the connection, Alistair knew Morrigan would only tell him what she thought necessary. She would most likely leave out details.

"Fine, but I have another question first."

"I may have an answer. Speak."

"Why did you leave? What sort of ritual did you ask Elissa to partake in?"

Morrigan looked amused. "Ignoring that those are in fact two questions, I shall answer to some extent, although I am surprised she did not tell you." Truthfully, Alistair had always been surprised by that as well. "The ritual was a way to keep both of you alive."

"You knew of such a thing?"

"Not I, Flemeth. That is why she sent me with you on your journey."

"Of course there was another motive than mere kindness," Alistair said bitterly. "Dare I ask what this ritual entailed?"

Morrigan paused for a moment, wondering what to reveal to him. "I was to conceive a child with you."

"A what with me?" Alistair asked, fully believing she were joking.

She looked amused again. "You heard correctly Alistair."

He looked at her for a moment, evidently disgusted by the whole proposition. When he regained his composure he shook his head. "And that's why she refused?"

"Hardly. She said she was morally obligated not to accept such a ritual. She thought the child would be an abomination."

"Which it would have been! Not only would it have the taint, but it would also be your child. Not to mention I would have been bringing another bastard heir into the world."

Morrigan laughed. "I would be more concerned that it would have been your child, Alistair. Such stupidity should not be spread. However, it would not have been an abomination."

"Then what would it have been? A tainted baby who would die in our place? That's hardly better." Alistair felt even more disgust overtake him.

"I do not wish to discuss this further with you."

"Fine! As if I want to even think about such a scenario. Thank the Maker it didn't turn out that way." As soon as the words left his lips he regretted saying them. Elissa would have been alive. Elissa would have been his queen. After all the wishing she were alive, to learn there had been a way to save her, he could hardly take it. She could have lived.

Then the reality caught up with him, and he cursed. If only she had asked him. If only she had told him how to save her. Yet still, Elissa's decision had merit as well. Even in the end she would not give in to the evil side of magic. She died instead of breaking the morals they shared. Alistair wondered how someone could be so courageous, but then she had always been the strong one. She had managed it all: her parents deaths, Ostagar, killing countless men, without even a minor complaint. She was, 'had been' he corrected himself, truly amazing.

Morrigan got up and left, heading off to set up her tent nearby but not too close to the others. Alistair remained sitting for a short while longer, collecting himself before heading off to explain the situation with his men. Now he had taken up the reins of the strong leader.


	5. The White Fortress

The group continued northward through Orlais, trying not to draw attention from the locals. Yet try as they might the group's size and armament naturally drew people's attention. A king could not easily travel unnoticed, especially with a group of Grey Wardens. Thus it was not long before they encountered one of the Empress's spies, all of whom insured Orlais remained generally stable. As any well-trained bard would, she slipped out of notice until she wanted to make herself known. When she did finally reveal herself, she did so very much in the manner any Orlaisian would.

She rode up to the group on a brilliantly white horse, whose mane was decorated with small golden ribbons. She wore a set of bright silver armor, her hair twisted into delicate curls. Around her neck hung a large blue amulet. She smiled widely at the group, making the men grin awkwardly back.

"The king of Ferelden, how wonderful!" she exclaimed in a thick Orlaisian accent, descending from the horse in an elegant sweep of her legs. She could not have been more than five feet tall but she stood proudly nonetheless. "It's a pleasure to meet you, your Majesty."

Alistair found himself at a loss for words. He finally managed a sheepish smile. Fortunately, however, he found himself unexpectedly saved from further conversation. The girl looked over at Morrigan, disbelief evident on her face. "Isabella, is that you? You look so...rugged." Morrigan had changed from her original dress to her much more practical, but at the same time revealing, robes. She flinched slightly under the girl's eyes.

"Indeed. I had some business with King Alistair." Alistair looked wide-eyed at her. Not only did this bubbly Orlaisian bard know her by a different name, but Morrigan had actually used his title. He found himself wondering what sort of connection the girl had with Morrigan to make her so proper.

The girl bounced over to Morrigan. "Really? Are you doing work for the empress? I do so hate when she doesn't tell me these things."

"My business is my own," Morrigan replied, her arrogance almost completely returning. Alistair's eyes grew wider.

"You work for Empress Celene?" he stammered in a rather unkingly manner. Morrigan glared at him. "I can't picture that at all."

"Why does that not surprise me?" she asked haughtily.

The girl covered her mouth, her eyes worried. "Oh no, you were working undercover! I'm so terribly sorry Isabella." Alistair made an amused face at the name, but Morrigan silenced him with a look.

"I am not, Juliette. However, I would ask you not to disturb us at this moment. We have some very important business to attend to."

Juliette pouted. "But the empress asked me to bring King Alistair to see her."

"I am afraid the empress will have to wait," Alistair said, having fully regained his composure. "I will meet with her on my return trip, but Isabella," he put extra emphasis on the name, "is correct. We have important business to attend to at the moment."

"Is that so?" Her eyes were surprisingly piercing as they looked at Alistair. He got the urge to shy away from them but managed to ignore it. "What business might you have that is so pressing?"

Lawrence, who had remained quiet, spoke up. "Our business is our own."

Juliette turned her attention to him now, her eyes narrowing. "A Grey Warden. You must be headed to Anderfels then. I've heard there was a commotion at Weisshaupt Fortress, in fact, perhaps you would know something about it? The Grey Wardens even sent mages here to look for something, or perhaps someone." Her voice had transitioned from its high, bubbly tone to something much more sinister.

Lawrence shook his head, staring directly into her eyes without blinking. She stared back for a long moment and then smiled sweetly. "Or I suppose not." She turned away from Lawrence and back to Alistair, her voice returning to its former pitch. "I guess the empress will just have to wait. I will keep you to your word so don't think you can avoid visiting her," she added sharply. She turned to Morrigan. "I hope to see you soon as well, Isabella."

Juliette mounted her horse, blowing Morrigan a kiss, and headed off. The group gave a collective sigh of relief. Alistair shook his head. "That was certainly...bracing," he said.

The men surrounding him seemed to agree, all of whom looked a little bewildered. Morrigan awkwardly varied her weight from her left to right leg and back again. She was unaccustomed to feeling shy and bashful, especially in the presence of Alistair. He was too busy focusing his attention on Lawrence to notice much. "It would seem the search has been unsuccessful," the man said, meeting Alistair's gaze. "The Commander would not be desperate enough to send mages into Orlais unless they could find no trace of the man in Anderfels."

"Then we should be off," Morrigan said, hoping to curtail the conversation. Alistair looked over at her with amusement in his eyes, but the sudden urge to move faster stopped him from saying anything. That man was still out there, and if Morrigan was right, he would be until they found him themselves.

Alistair nodded, snapping the reins in his hands. The men followed, an eerie wave of haste silencing them.

The fortress of Weisshaupt stood tall before them, the ancient white stones looking surprisingly sturdy. The darkness of evening had begun to descend on the stone, casting shadows along its corners. Alistair, who had been to the fortress before, and the other Grey Wardens did not paused to gaze at the building's wonder. The other members of the party, however, simply stared. Not only was Weisshaupt Fortress almost as large at the royal palace in Denerim, it appeared just as magnificent.

One of the guards greeted the group, ushering them through the large iron gates. Once inside he led them through a series of passageways until finally entering the main hall. It was a grand room with large marble pillars holding up a high ceiling. Paintings of famous Grey Wardens adorned the walls. Many men stood around the corners discussing various things, each wearing armor. The guard, however, led the group to the man in the center.

They approached the Warden Commander, a middle-aged man with a surprisingly gray beard for his age. His dull blue eyes seemed to reflect all the responsibility he had. A younger man stood to the Commander's right, his robes and staff a stark contrast to the armor and swords glinting in the candlelight.

The Commander bowed his head to Alistair, looking over the group. His eyes met Lawrence's, who shook his head. The Commander sighed, stretching his sword arm. "Welcome back, your Majesty, although I wish your return was under different circumstances."

"Thank you, Commander, as do I."

The Commander nodded solemnly. "As you have probably guessed we have been unsuccessful in locating the person responsible for breaking into Elissa Cousland's tomb. Howard here is our most powerful mage," he motioned to the mage standing next to him, "and he has led some missions out as far as Antiva but to no avail. The mage seems to be masking himself somehow."

"Masking himself? I did not know that was possible," Alistair replied.

"Neither did we," Howard said. He sounded incredibly exhausted for someone so young. "We were actually hoping your Templar background might give us some insight, but it appears not. We are running out of options."

Alistair hesitated. "That's not exactly true. I know it is a bit unorthodox, but a mage with us seems somehow connected with this incident."

Morrigan stepped forward. "I would like to examine the coffin...that is, assuming you'll allow me." Her voice held its normal stubbornness, even in the presence of the Grey Wardens. Howard glared at her.

"A petty witch wants to examine the coffin of such a hero? Surely there is nothing you could do that we have not already tried."

Morrigan's eyes flashed angrily. "Considering how unsuccessful you have been, it is a wonder the man has not started destroying all your tombs."

Howard grabbed his staff, pointing it threateningly at Morrigan. "Enough, Howard," the Commander said, motioning for Howard to withdraw. "She may be impolite, but she does make a decent point. As you said, we are running out of options." He turned to Morrigan. "I will grant you permission to examine the tomb, but do not think you can go in there without supervision. Howard, take two other guards and go with the witch to the crypt."

"But Commander, are you sure? She could very well help the culprit. We cannot trust her."

Morrigan sighed in frustration. "Does your formal training really make you this dense, or does it simply come naturally to you? If I truly wanted to harm you, why would I come to you?"

Howard floundered for a moment. "You could be trying to confuse us."

Morrigan scoffed. "What a brilliant plan! Go to the center of Grey Warden territory and then fight them while gravely outnumbered. I will be sure to ask for your advice when I attempt such a thing."

Howard blushed, Alistair feeling quite bad for the boy. Alistair knew Morrigan's ability to make him feel like an idiot. "Just go," the Commander said tiredly, "before I change my mind."

With that Morrigan followed the incredibly reluctant Howard and two other soldiers out of the room. After insuring his men would be given a place to rest, Alistair headed to the tomb as well.


	6. Beyond the Darkness

Alistair arrived to find Howard glaring at Morrigan, who had her hand held to one of the stones. "Your aura is interfering with my concentration," she said in an annoyed tone of voice. Howard seemed to glare even harder.

The remains of Elissa's tomb lay about the stone floor, the marble fractured into small pieces. The engraving, which the Commander had asked Alistair to write, now lay in ruin. Only a few words could be depicted here and there, but the message was lost. He recalled laboring over a parchment for weeks, trying to find the exact words to write down. It was not until Derek told him to simply write what he felt that he could finally find the words: 'In life she was a rose amidst the darkness and despair. She sacrificed herself for everyone and expected nothing in return, but in giving so much she never had a chance to truly live. May she find that chance in the embrace of the Maker for he is the only one who can comfort her now.'

The words seemed empty to Alistair now, a combination of platitudes and malformed imagery. They did not explain the way he felt, nor did they embody the woman they spoke of. She was not the sum of strings of words meant more to comfort the living than honor the fallen. Her life had meant so much more to Alistair than words could ever express, and she remained the only person he felt comfortable around. He had taken up the role of king, and in doing so, lost the ability to retract the wall around his emotions. The first night they had spent together he had let it down, only to lose her soon afterward. Remembering it all made a dull pain twist in his abdomen.

Morrigan raised her head, looking over at Alistair. "I found her," she said simply. "Although I doubt you will want to know of her condition."

"What do you mean?" he asked gruffly. The words shook him back into reality.

Morrigan paused for a moment, running her forefinger across her temple. "He is attempting to resurrect her. He plans to open a hole between this world and the Fade. By doing so he hopes to pull her soul back into its body."

Alistair stared at her, dumbfounded. It had always been a morbid wish of his for Elissa to miraculously come back to life, even though he knew only blood magic would truly bring her back. Now some stranger was doing that exact wish, although animating such a precious person with such a disgusting spell infuriated him. He had to stop it, even if that meant stopping his only chance of getting her back.

"How is that possible?" Howard exclaimed, again interrupting Alistair's racing thoughts. "Even the Tevinters could never bring people back to life. That must be incredibly ancient magic."

"It is possible, I assure you," Morrigan said. Howard stared at her confusedly, but she turned to Alistair and continued. "He has not yet fulfilled the ritual. He must wait for the full moon, which means we have a day and a half. But I am unsure we can make it in that time."

"Where is he?" Alistair asked, stepping into his role as king and leaving behind his distant regrets.

"He went north to the Wandering Hills."

"The Wandering Hills? They are not very well mapped. We could get hopelessly lost without a proper guide. Besides, it takes two days to get there," Howard explained.

"Not enough time then," Alistair said, pacing, "Morrigan, can you direct us?"

She nodded. "I can, but I am afraid I cannot get us there any faster than you can."

"We shall leave right away then," Alistair declared. "Howard, would you mind gathering together your fellow mages? I will go speak to the Commander and my men."

"Yes, Your Majesty," Howard said, leaving immediately.

"Prepare yourself to leave, Morrigan." She nodded reluctantly and stepped out. Alistair took a deep breath and went to speak to the Commander.

He gathered together those of his men still able to make the trip, which turned out to only be Ser Gregory. No matter how much Alistair argued with him, he would not be convinced to stay behind. The Grey Wardens, having had more rest and generally more stamina than Alistair's men, sent along ten others. They included Howard and Lawrence, as well as three other mages.

They rode as fast as their horses would carry them. Even given that, they did not make it to the Wandering Hills in time. The hills consisted of grasslands with the sporadic tree, much of it overgrown. The jagged rocks and uneven ground made it very treacherous terrain.

When they arrived they were met with zombies and skeletons. Most were dead animals the bloodmage had brought back to life, but some were unfortunate adventurers caught in his experiments. These zombies contained both living and dead tissue, making them incredibly hideous to look at. Given their numbers the bloodmage's creations were fairly easy to dispatch for the group of warriors. Here and there a zombie who had been a mage in its past life would appear, sending lightning and snow through the air, but Morrigan and the Warden mages silenced them quickly. Even Howard had to admit she had impressive abilities.

Morrigan brought them to the outside of a large cave opening. It appeared very shallow at first glance, but when Morrigan dispelled the illusion it showed a long road into the darkness. The mages summoned wisps to guide the way as the group made its way into the cave.

It was mostly empty except for a few spiders webs, but the smell of rotting flesh became more and more powerful as they walked through the damp stone. Soon they came across a group of darkspawn, all of whom lunged out at the Grey Wardens. The smell of the taint had brought the darkspawn out from the bowls of the earth.

The group fought them off, taking down the emissary leader and destroying the weaker enemies. They then heard a far off crash followed by a series of noticeably uneven booming sounds. Out from a passage appeared a large cave troll, its eyes yellow with the taint. It limped and carried at large stone hammer in one hand. A few hurlocks stood by its feet, cackling.

Lawrence and Alistair split up the group, each leading a charge against the troll. The mages, meanwhile, shot paralyzing spells to stop it from advancing. The troll threw its hammer right and left, making one of the Wardens fly through the air. He crashed to the stone floor, dead. Alistair's group managed to take out the hurlocks while Lawrence's distracted the troll. They made their final offensive, taking off the head of the gigantic beast, but not before it injured two other Wardens. They bandaged the wounds quickly, and, wiping his blade, Alistair motioned for Morrigan to lead onward. Unfortunately nothing could be done about the dead man until they found Elissa's body and the bloodmage.

They walked into the central room, which had obviously been carved by some sort of being long in the past. Large columns supported the ceiling, and beautiful statues stood tall despite the moss and decay. The smell was strongest in this central point. The group could tell this was the bloodmage's lair.

He stood surrounded by research and dead bodies. He did not seem to notice the smell emanating from the corpses but was instead focused on the one in front of him. Before him, on a large slab of stone, lay Elissa. No longer bones, she had flesh and blood. She looked hauntingly as she had before she had died, although there was a faint glow around her body that had not existed before.

"What have you done to her?" Alistair bellowed, drawing his sword. The bloodmage looked up and smiled.

"I have made them whole. Can you not tell? They live again. I may not be finished rebuilding her body yet, but soon they will awaken. So very soon." His eyes flashed. "But I am afraid you were not invited, nor were any of your Warden friends."

"Be careful. He is immensely powerful," Howard warned.

The bloodmage cackled. "Your mage speaks the truth. Yet I doubt you came here just to look at her. Unfortunately for you, however, I will not let you have her. They are mine."

Alistair tightened his grip. "Not for long."


	7. Rebirth

The battle was not an easy one. Even though he had fought the Archdemon and had a large gathering of highly trained Wardens, Alistair found himself at a disadvantage against the mage. The blood magic at the mage's disposal yielded terrifying spells. Fireballs shot down from the heavens, burning through armor and melting swords.

The Warden mages and Morrigan shot spells from the back of the cave, trying to combat his fire spells with ice. It worked decently well, but the fire still burned, if less brightly. Alistair led an assault with Ser Gregory and Lawrence in tow, each of them flanking the mage. This soon proved difficult because the mage teleported throughout the cavern. Luckily, the archers near the mages could shoot fast enough to damage him at least slightly.

After weakening him, Alistair charged at him, only to be thrown down by an explosion of light. The mage summoned a skeleton and zombie to attack the other warriors while descending upon Alistair. Although strong, he could not move out of the crippling prison the mage had formed around him. Even his templar talents could not help Alistair against the field blocking his way.

"I have you now it seems, Warden," the mage mocked. He began casting a lightning spell, aiming it directly for Alistair's chest.

"I'm afraid not," came a voice from behind the mage, a sword stabbing through his abdomen. The mage thrashed and then fell to the ground, his summons vanishing. In his place stood Elissa, very much alive. Alistair stared dumbfounded at her for a moment until she held out her hand. He took it, rising to his feet.

The cavern remained silent for a long while, no one daring to move. Eventually Alistair nodded, smiling. "It seems even death can't stop you from saving my life."

Elissa was silent for a moment and then a faint smile came to her lips. "That's what I am here for..." she trailed off. She began to fall to the ground, Alistair immediately catching her. "It seems my muscles have not come back completely yet." Her eyes closed as she fell back to sleep, although her breathing remained steady. Alistair noticed her warmth. She really was alive. He waited to wake from the dream, but it remained a reality.

The group moved again, gathering around Alistair and Elissa. They had lost another Warden, and one of the mages had been badly wounded, but they had succeeded in defeating the mage. Howard led the other mages to collect the various texts and magical items in the mage's possession, hoping they could find clues as to the spell used. Morrigan slipped out before anyone could notice, leaving the others to take Elissa and the dead back to the camp. A couple hours passed, the group staying quiet. Alistair had placed Elissa on his bedroll and now watched over her as she slept. The redness began to return to her cheeks. Eventually she awoke, her eyes passing in and out of focus.

"Water," she mumbled. Alistair immediately began to pour a bit of water down her throat slowly. She greedily drank it. He then passed her some food, which she consumed as if she had been starving for days. She sat there for a moment, Alistair watching with rapt attention. He did not know what to make of her. She looked as though she had not aged a day and yet she was supposed to be dead. What had she experienced during that time underground? Had she journeyed to the Fade? Had she met the Maker? Alistair boiled over with questions but voiced none of them. He feared he would ruin the moment or somehow scare her away.

She spoke finally, her voice still a bit rough. "Thank you for coming for me. That mage...he..." she stopped.

"It's over now," Alistair replied. He wanted to hold her in his arms but dared not move. He still did not know what to expect. "You aren't evil or something, are you? I guess if you were you wouldn't tell me."

Elissa laughed, although he could tell it was forced. "I suppose you will just have to take your chances." She stretched slowly. "I cannot remember a time I have ever ached quite this much."

"Well you were dead." Alistair regretted mentioning her death as soon as he said it. She responded surprisingly well.

"True enough." There was another pause. "Was Morrigan with you?"

Alistair hesitated for a moment before answering. "Why? Does she have something to do with that bloodmage? She did disappear awfully quickly."

"She was here then," Elissa said, rubbing her eyes. "I suppose I cannot fault her for leaving me the first time then. When she returns, please bring her to me."

"When she returns? I was hoping she would stay away. Not to seem ungrateful, but she seems to only add to our problems. Coming along to make a demon child is not the healthiest of intentions."

"She told you then. I apologize for never saying anything. I just...didn't know what to say. But I guess my decision matters not now."

Alistair nodded, understanding only partly. He rubbed his forehead. "What do we do now?"

"I die a heroic death in the Deep Roads. What more can we do? I am supposed to be dead."

"Absolutely not! I refuse to lose you again. Once was more than enough. You are alive now; that's all that matters. You can come back with me to Denerim, and then we can make preparations for you to do as you wish. I will not argue if you decide to leave me, but at least live. Please..." His voice faltered.

Elissa massaged her neck, her eyes going out of focus. Her lips parted but she said nothing for a time. The silence was tangible, her sigh finally breaking it. "I cannot think of this now. Please, Alistair, allow me to rest."

Alistair nodded, rising to leave. He kissed her on the forehead, a smile almost flickering onto her face. She lay down, rubbing her eyes before falling back into a deep sleep. Alistair left the tent to seek out the other Grey Wardens. He did not know what to make of Elissa and, frankly, did not want to think about it. Still, he must. Perhaps the texts and notes Howard and his men had collected would yield more answers. He only hoped Elissa would one day return to herself. For now she was barely more than an empty vessel.

He located Howard and Lawrence hunched over some of the documents recovered. They were speaking in a hushed tone, but their Warden training immediately alerted them to Alistair's presence. Lawrence bowed his head. "Your Majesty."

The texts were covered in blood, not to mention they smelled terrible. They consisted of a book on necromancy with notes sprawled in the margins and copious notes stacked into a large pile. Alistair examined them briefly.

"I do not recognize this tongue. Can you translate it Howard?"

Howard shook his head sadly. "Bits and pieces. It seems to be a combination of Ancient Elvish script as well as Arcanum, the language of the Tevinter Imperium. Even the most highly trained translators would have difficulty deciphering it. So far I can make out that the mage wanted to raise Lady Cousland for something she possessed. It does not specify what that is, however. Seeing as she does not possess any magical abilities, I cannot guess what she would have, especially after death."

Alistair tried to go through possibilities in his mind, but came to none. He pinched the bridge of his nose. It seemed only Elissa would be able to supply any answers, or perhaps Morrigan if she did indeed return. For now he just needed to keep Elissa from suicide. He did not know what depression had gripped her after awakening, but it was certainly a drastic change from the courageous and vibrant woman she once was. "You'll keep trying I assume. Let me know if you learn anything more. And Lawrence, try to keep anything sharp away from Elissa."

"You fear she is a danger to us?" Lawrence inquired. He absentmindedly clasped the hilt of his blade.

"Not to us. To herself. I hope this will all be explained soon but for now I need rest. I will excuse myself." Alistair returned to his tent, Elissa fast asleep on his bedroll. He spread out another next to it, collapsing down onto. Soon sleep took him.


	8. The Remnants of Elissa Cousland

Alistair awoke to Elissa's scream in the darkness. He jumped up and went to her, grasping her hand as she opened her eyes. "Alistair?" she asked, her voice harsh.

"The one and only," he replied, trying for levity but his voice came out hollow and worried. "Are you alright?"

She shut her eyes and inhaled deeply. She opened them again after a moment, looking tired. "I could say yes but you would know I was lying. I guess death takes a lot out of a person."

The edge of Alistair's mouth quirked upward momentarily before returning to a worried frown. "What did you dream of?"

"It...doesn't matter." He could tell she was lying but didn't push it. He hoped she would eventually return to her old self again and perhaps then she would be willing to tell him. Still, it bothered him that she wouldn't confide in him after all they had been through together. The memory of their short-lived romance swam in his mind and he smiled despite his frustration at her silence.

Alistair brushed her hair away from her eyes absentmindedly. "I've missed you, Elissa." She turned her head away from his hand before Alistair could see her eyes soften. He pulled the hand away, awkwardly flexing it as though she had physically hurt him.

"I'm sorry. It's better this way." She turned to look at him, her face unreadable. "You should remember me as I was, as I should still be. The Elissa Cousland you loved died when she killed the Archdemon. The empty shell you see before you will leave this place when I am strong enough. It will be like I never returned to this world." So she really was set on dying. He couldn't, wouldn't, lose her again. Especially not to her unrelenting sense of morality that verged on ridiculous.

Alistair shook his head, his frustration boiling over. "Why must you be so stubborn? I may not know what it was like on the other side but you can overcome anything if you want to. Didn't our success against the Blight prove that? Dammit Elissa, I need you!"

She smiled slightly, almost pulling Alistair out of his anger but not quite. "No, you have Ferelden to protect now. The world is as it should be. I have no doubt you have become a great king."

"If I have it is only because you taught me to look after myself. You saw past the idealistic fool I used to be and urged me to take command of my own life. You deserve the place of power more than I ever have, even if I've grown into the position now." He had grown into the crown nicely, true, but Elissa had been the one to pick up the pieces after the debacle with his supposed sister. She had shown him he could be a good king. Didn't she realize this was all her doing? He could have wasted his life away as a drunkard in some Maker-forsaken city but he tried to remain strong to honor her memory. Now she was going to give up her life a second time in a much less heroic act. It bordered on insanity.

When she didn't answer he continued his tirade. "This isn't like you, Elissa. Dying for the sake of Ferelden I understand. Dying because you can't face being brought back to life, even by someone as vile as that bloodmage, is just cowardly." He was being unfair and he knew it. He couldn't help it after all the anger that had boiled just below the surface for two and a half years. Anger at her death. Anger at the Wardens for never telling them about the Archdemon. Anger at the rest of the world for moving on while he couldn't. But most of all, anger at himself for not taking the final blow himself. He wouldn't let her die a second time as long as it was in his power to stop her.

"You don't have to understand," she said finally.

"But I want to! Don't you get that? Don't you trust me enough to tell me what is pushing you to such extremes?"

"I can't put it into words. Not yet." His anger melted away. "Just know it is important enough that I must return to the Fade for good. At least if I go into the Deep Roads my bones will be out of reach."

"Is there something you need to get rid of down there?" he asked, finally remembering what Howard had said the night before.

She looked surprised. "In a sense, yes."

"Then I'll accompany you."

"Absolutely not. You are the king. You can't go get yourself killed in the Deep Roads."

'Damn her for being right,' he thought. He had suddenly felt exhausted, losing the energy to argue anymore. "Fine but you are coming back with us to Weisshaupt first." She nodded, lying back onto the bedroll. Alistair watched her close her eyes. Maybe if he could stall her long enough they could figure out what the writings said. For now that was all he could do. He got up and went to see how the injured were doing in the medical tent. He would not be able to sleep again tonight.

Morrigan returned a few days later, immediately asking to see Elissa. They had not been able to move camp yet with the injuries accrued in the battle especially given Elissa's only short periods of wakefulness, but a carriage will food and medical supplies along with a few more men, including Derek, had arrived about a day after the battle.. The Wardens thus left the decision in Alistair's hands. He hesitated but eventually consented to Morrigan visiting Elissa, following her into the tent. Elissa had then asked him to leave, requesting that he trust her. He had to ask himself whether he did indeed trust this new Elissa. Evidently he did not as he immediately sat down near the tent after leaving in hopes he might hear snippets of their conversation. Morrigan, however, had been one step ahead and erected some sort of silence spell. He cursed under his breath, deciding to discuss preparations for leaving the next morning.

He walked over to Derek who was feeding Alistair's horse. "He'll be ready to leave tomorrow I hope?" Derek looked up, startled. He bowed quickly to Alistair.

"Yes, your Majesty. Storm's quite the horse, even for a purebred Antivan stallion."

"Well the Antivan I got him from may have...acquired...him from the Crows."

Derek seemed to have a new respect for the horse. "I see. As I recall he was a coronation gift from one of your former companions."

"He was. I wonder what Zevran would do to cheer up Elissa in this situation. He always had a knack for making her laugh. It used to drive me crazy." Two and a half years suddenly seemed a lifetime ago.

"So you are the jealous type, your Majesty. Well, if Lady Cousland is anything like Storm-"

"I'm sorry but are you comparing my former fiance to a horse?"

Derek turned a bright red as he did when he accidentally offended some absent lord or another when speaking in Alistair's presence. He always had some irrational fear it would get back to the nobleman. "I mean, no of course not! Lady Cousland is a beautiful woman who lives up to every story I have heard of her." Alistair thought he was laying it on a little thick, an eyebrow slowly quirking up. "I meant no offense to you or her ladyship, your Majesty."

"Oh I know Derek. I just like to watch you sweat. Makes up for all the times you have chastised me for acting in an unkingly manner."

Derek smirked at that, regaining his composure. "It's too bad you do not have as many opportunities to watch me sweat as I do to chastise you, your Majesty. I just wanted to say that Storm enjoys the company of other horses and particularly dogs. I find it rather strange for a horse from Antiva, but perhaps Storm is merely trying to fit in with Ferelden horses."

"So you mean I should get Elissa a pet? Of course Riley, her dog, is in Highever! She probably doesn't even know her brother is alive. I should take her to see Fergus. Surely he can talk some sense into her."

"Even the king should not call the Teyrn of Highever by his first name." Derek crossed his hands over his chest looking smug.

Alistair rolled his eyes. "Aren't you the one always telling me that revenge is a sin?"

"I may have exaggerated."

"Right," Alistair replied, drawing out the vowel in mockery.

Morrigan hurried past them on her way out of camp. Alistair called after her, and she turned, looking remarkably perplexed. "What is it, Alistair?"

"What did Elissa say?"

"Why do you not ask her yourself and save yourself the trouble of bothering me? Or perhaps you do not believe she will tell you the truth." Her eyes flashed when she saw she had hit a nerve. "I see. Well then I shall be off."

"Just like that? Where are you going?"

"Somewhere you cannot follow. It seems Elissa was not the only one to return from the dead." With that she transformed into a raven and flew away. Alistair glanced after her, turning towards his tent. With the new ammunition of Fergus's very much alive status he was determined to get Elissa to at least postpone her trip to the Deep Roads.


	9. Boyish Hope

Elissa was sitting up in bed looking much more alive than she had since her resurrection. She nodded as Alistair entered, wearing the look that she used when she expected trouble. When he did not explode at her she frowned. "What, you wanted me to argue with you about Morrigan? I can certainly do so if it would make you happy," he asked.

She laughed without humor. "Yes perhaps I did." She shrugged, and Alistair noted happily she did not cringe in pain. "Would you help me to the washstand?" She had slowly started to reuse her legs but still had trouble when walking was required. Alistair wrapped his hand around her waist and they hobbled over to the small basin of water together. She washed her face off with the towel that lay beside it.

"You're sure you will be ready to leave tomorrow? We could postpone for another day."

"Yes more lying about in a useless fashion is just what I need." She had finally started making jokes again even if they were consistently dry and sarcastic. It was a step anyway. "At least on a horse I will be able to do some sightseeing."

"Don't be ridiculous, Elissa. You are riding on the cart with the other wounded." His tone brokered no argument and for once she did not push it. He had a sudden yearning for the old Elissa who would argue with him at every opportunity if she disagreed even minorly. He had to remind himself that recovery would take a while. "I actually wanted to talk to you about where you might go after we reach Weisshaupt."

"We've already addressed this. I'm going to the Deep Roads." Her stubbornness was certainly still intact.

"Eventually, sure, but wouldn't it be nice to have some time to regain your strength? I don't think those legs will get you halfway to Orzammar never mind the Deep Roads. Besides, there is someone you might want to see." She quirked her head to the side. "After the battle we finally found Fergus. You could go visit him and Riley in Highever."

She was at a loss as to what to say for a moment as Alistair rejoiced at his apparent victory internally. "This is an attempt to get me to change my mind isn't it?"

'Of course she can always see right through me,' he thought bitterly. Still, although her voice was a bit harsh, a warmth Alistair had not witnessed since her death had returned to her eyes. He decided to let the news sink in on its own, choosing not to answer the question she had raised.

"He's really alive?" she asked finally. He knew it was rhetorical but he answered her anyway.

"Yes. He was rescued after he lost his men in the Wilds. He can tell you all about it when you see him." She smiled slightly. She had never really talked much about her brother. Alistair suspected it had been too soon after he had died, and she was certainly not the type to talk openly about the feelings such as sadness. She had always believed such sentiments had no place in a leader, particularly in such a dangerous and terrible time like the Blight. In all honesty Alistair begrudged the fact he had monopolized much of the time they could have used to talk of her family with his own misgivings about being a prince and the loss of Duncan. He had been young and idealistic. He briefly wondered how much longer he could use the excuse of being "young" before it wore out.

Her eyes darkened. "I shouldn't go. I am supposed to be dead. I don't have the luxury of going back to the life I had before."

"And why in Andraste's name not? Haven't you earned it? Haven't you done enough already for the sake of others?" The words sounded like he wanted what was best for her but part of him knew they were the result of selfishness on his part. He wanted her back.

"I...am sorry, Alistair." He looked at her with overwhelming frustration and maybe a hint of hurt. "I will think about it. I still have a couple days before we reach Weisshaupt."

"You promise?" His voice took on the boyish hope he had tried so hard to eliminate over the past couple years. He thought he saw a flicker of a smile cross her lips but could not be sure.

"I promise."

He got up, having achieved at least in part his goal. "You should rest. We have a long day ahead of us." She nodded, and he turned to leave.

"Alistair," she called quietly after him. He turned to see her face, her eyes sad. "Thank you for believing in me even when I can't believe in myself. It may not seem like I appreciate it given my cold attitude but I do. I wish things could be different between us...the way they were before." He thought momentarily about arguing that they could indeed be any way she wished them but thought the better of it. He merely nodded, exiting the tent. He didn't hear the muffled whimper nor see the tears streak down her cheeks. She shoved her head into her pillow, hoping that when she woke up she would be rid of the mission she had to undertake for the sake of the world.


	10. Cured

The group was ready to leave with the rising of the sun the next day. Elissa and the wounded from the battle sat in the provisions carriage with Derek. Although the Grey Wardens wanted to give their fallen comrades a proper burial they had to leave the dead behind to forever gaze up at the heavens beneath isolated graves. The remaining Wardens promised to send a delegation to say the proper rites when they returned to Weisshaupt. Although some Wardens believed the Maker had forsaken them for using whatever means necessary to defeat the darkspawn, no matter how forbidden or bloody, they still asked the Chantry to send their people off to the Maker's side. For some it was a false ritual but others still believed their god had a place for the fearsome warriors who protected the world by submitting themselves to an early grave.

Elissa sat in the carriage, feeling more alive than she had since returning to life. She could not help thinking of her childhood with Fergus. He had always had a way of taming her even if she spent much of their youth roaming about with swords and horses. She had taken all of the mandatory classes to become a lady, and she took them to heart when they suited her. Still, much like her mother, she preferred swords and armor to dolls and dresses. Having an elder brother to take her along during his swordsmanship lessons helped not at all. Where he and her father favored a sword and shield, her agility and dexterity made her more suitable for dual wielding two short-swords. It was perhaps not the most knightly way of fighting but she was no knight. She could even beat Fergus in a match, although he would never admit to being bested.

Alistair had known exactly what to tell her. The only thing that could distract her from her mission was her brother's return. How she yearned to see Highever now that a couple years had washed away Howe's treachery. Still, would it even be the same? Her parents were gone. Her sister-in-law and Oren were no longer with them. She wasn't sure she could face it. But her brother was all alone now. How he must feel living in the castle all by himself? Had he found another woman to marry in the intervening two years?

Her thoughts were interrupted by Derek. "My lady it is nearly midday. Would you like some refreshments?" Elissa looked up. Alistair had instructed this man to look after her during the ride. He seemed pleasant enough, although he was overly fond of formalities.

"Elissa is perfectly acceptable."

"I am afraid I cannot do that, my lady. It would be most improper. Perhaps you would prefer Hero of Ferelden instead?" She flinched and he seemed to notice. She made a mental note to watch her body language around him in the future. At least Alistair had capable men in his employ.

"No that is quite all right. 'My lady' will suffice if you refuse to use my given name. I would like something if you don't mind. I can get it if you tell me where it is."

"Please, let me get something for you. It was His Majesty's express wish that I see to all your needs myself." She grimaced, and Derek returned a smirk. "He can be quite the handful when he doesn't get what he wants."

"Yes well His Majesty seems to forget I can be just as stubborn as he can." She sighed, her side hurting from the long exhale of breath. Perhaps she should let him help her after all. "Fine, have it your way. Anything will do." She was not in the mood for fighting. Maybe it had been the long session of crying the day before. Maybe she was just heartsick.

Derek produced an assortment of cheeses and meats from one of the containers nearby. She absentmindedly nibbled at a hunk of cheese, staring at the road beside them. "So I understand you know quite a bit about the aristocracy and Denerim politics," she said, looking over at Derek.

He nodded. "Not as much as the Chancellor, but that is part of my job as His Majesty's personal assistant."

"The Chancellor?"

"I believe you know him. He was the former arl of Redcliffe and uncle to the king, Eamon Guerrin."

She nodded in approval. Of course she should have known Arl Eamon would not leave the last Theirin on the throne without assistance. "And what of Redcliffe?"

"The former Bann of Rainesfere, Chancellor Eamon's brother, was given the position."

Elissa smiled. "I have no doubt Teagan is doing a fine job. He was certainly quite the asset during our fight against the Blight."

"I am sure he would appreciate you saying so, my lady."

Elissa sobered somewhat, trying to decide how to broach the subject she wanted to address most. She did not want to make Derek uncomfortable, but she yearned to know more of the new Ferelden. And most importantly, the new king. After a few moments of internal debate she finally asked, "And His Majesty...how has he been?"

Derek scrutinized her face. She did her best not to convey any emotion, a skill she has perfected as a teryn's daughter and Grey Warden. Finding no answer to whatever question he had, Derek eventually responded to her. "He is a fine ruler, my lady. The people seem to genuinely love him, particularly since he has not been afraid of showing his humanity at times. I think perhaps his birth and irregular upbringing may have become somewhat of an asset to him. Still, they yearn for a marriage and heir." Derek looked at her, hoping she would betray her feelings. Her former training prevailed, however, and he left her to her thoughts.

So he hadn't moved on then. Given what he had said to her over the last few days she was not surprised. Still, he had gone two years without a royal engagement. It was absolutely ridiculous given his status. She was almost angry. Almost. She cursed the part of her that was touched he had never chosen another woman. Sometimes even she could let fleeting impractical thoughts get the best of her.

She suddenly remembered the night after the Landsmeet. Alistair had killed Loghain in the duel, thus leaving the possibility of marrying Anora completely invalidated. Originally Elissa had thought marrying Alistair to Anora might be a better choice than presenting him as the sole ruler. As much as she disliked the woman, Anora held a great deal of power in Denerim. It would be the practical choice, even if neither her nor Anora could bare children to the Theirin bloodline. Still, any misgivings Elissa had about putting Alistair on the throne by himself disappeared when he took the power of justice into his hands. He really was born to rule.

Afterward Alistair had sneaked into her room and they had lain in bed silently holding hands for what seemed like hours. Eventually Alistair had pulled her onto her feet and bowed down before her.

"Elissa..." he had said. "I cannot rule this kingdom alone. I know that things will be...difficult...between us since we will probably never have children of our own. Being Grey Wardens has its downfalls, well quite a few honestly, chief among them our infertility. Still, it was good Anora was too disgusted with me to consider marriage, because there is only one person I could rule beside. It's you, Elissa. I love you, more than anything. Will you be the queen to a hopelessly confused and naive king?"

She had said yes despite her desire to do the right thing, to let Alistair find a woman who could conceive. The threat of the Archdemon was much too eminent for them to worry about such things then. Now though, given what Derek had said, that decision seemed unwise. She had been so wrapped up in her love and affection she had blinded herself to the truth that carrying on the royal line was more important than love. Perhaps death had taken her innocence away. She sighed, Derek looking over at her with curiosity. She would have to convince Alistair to give up on her and marry another woman before she departed for the Deep Roads. And what in Andraste's name was she going to do about Fergus? She clutched her hand to her forehead, suddenly feeling a massive headache come on. At least during her death she had been blessed with the inability to make decisions.

They stopped the procession at nightfall, setting up their tents and building a few fires. Alistair had apparently remembered a certain propriety was necessary when one was the king and had a bedroll placed in the medical tent for Elissa. She dined in silence beside one of the fires, listening to the various conversations around her. All the Wardens were still morose, quietly comparing stories of their fallen comrades. Alistair was otherwise preoccupied with some of the Wardens and Ser Gregory. She suspected they were discussing her but the content of their conversation was unimportant. The less contact she could have with other human beings the easier it would be to sacrifice herself again. She would not be dissuaded even if she were delayed.

She eventually retired to the medical tent to find Howard tending to one of the other Wardens. Most of the injured were cured by now, but this man had been particularly badly burned by a fire bomb. His leg, which had been nearly completely beyond repair, was bandage, but he still could not walk even with healing poultices and spells. Howard looked up from his work and smiled at Elissa. She thought it looked a bit forced but she did not know him well enough to truly tell. She sat down on her bedroll, trying not to pull any of her muscles. Much of her mobility had returned, but she still had some tendons here and there that had yet to completely grow in.

Howard came over to help her. She suddenly realized that only Alistair had treated her wounds up to this point other than a few failed attempts from Morrigan to heal her before leaving. Morrigan never had a flair for healing. She was more the debilitate and control your enemy type of mage. Howard began probing her body with his mana and she felt the warmth of a healing spell soothe her aching muscles. She let her eyes close pleasantly. Suddenly the warmth stopped and she looked up at Howard's face. He looked very puzzled and slightly...concerned? She couldn't be sure.

He rushed out of the tent and returned with Alistair and Lawrence shortly after. "Can you feel her presence?" Howard asked the others. The other men were silent for a moment and then a look of bewilderment that matched Howard's expression came over their faces.

"But that is impossible. The taint does not leave dead bodies, it seeps into the soil all around a fallen darkspawn or Warden until all life is dead for a year," replied Lawrence, his brow furrowed.

"But I can't sense her at all!"

Alistair, who was beginning to look more relieved than confused at this point, finally spoke. "So then she is no longer a Warden. She no longer carries the taint..."

Elissa finally understood, feeling a rush of happiness and maybe even loss flood her. She was no longer a Grey Warden. She was...cured.


End file.
